What happens in Europe
by Shinora1996
Summary: Eurovision 2013, and Canada is invited to watch by his loving boyfriend Netherlands. He hopes for a normal Song Contest, which it would have been if it weren't for the stupid bet Netherlands and Denmark have made. This can't end well. T for non-explicit nudity, language, suggestive themes and randomness. Read at own risk. NedCan, mentions of DenNor, SuFin and past FrUk. One-shot


[DISCLAIMER]: I do NOT own the characters, artists, songs or the Eurovision Song Contest.

This one-shot is the result of me being bored and watching the Eurovision song contest with my family. Halfway, I started wondering what someone who had never heard of it would think of it. So Canada is my victim for this little sick mind-experiment.

Please note that nothing in this one-shot should be taken seriously! In any way! Really!

WARNINGS: Nudity, language, several Eurovision songs being insulted, and severe WTF. Please do not attempt to read if you are easily offended, or at all.

Shit WILL get out of hand!

~o~o~o~

Canada had no idea what had possessed him the moment he had accepted the Netherlands' invitation to watch the Eurovision Song Contest's Grand Final in Malmö with him and the other countries. He had never even heard of it. He didn't have anything to do with it, so why was he even there?!

Oh, yeah. Netherlands' grass-green puppy-eyes. That was why. The idiot had begged him to join him and finally gotten his way by using those big, innocent, shiny-with-tears, adorable eyes. Why? Why did that guy have that irresistible please-do-what-I'm-asking-you-because-it-means-so- much-to-me-and-I'll-love-you-forever look when he needed it?!

And why did he want him, Canada, one of the few who had absolutely nothing to do with the Song Contest, to be there in the first place?! From what Canada had gathered, the Dutch acts were generally horrible and never even made the finals. He had checked a few videos from other years as well, and he had lost count how many times he had smacked his face into his desk. What was with the Fairground organ that looked like it could crash down through the stage any moment? And the feathered headdress?! It looked like it was about to eat that poor thing alive! When he saw a bunch of guys in glitter suits, he lost it and turned off the computer before he'd throw the thing out the window. He just hoped this year there wouldn't be an act like that.

Every country that had sent an act to the Contest was there, also the ones whose act hadn't made it past the semi-finals. So there he was, with all the Europeans and a few more in one big room, looking out over the audience and the stage in Malmö. They would be watching the show from above, from a room only they knew of and had access to. That was to avoid influence of the nations on their fellow countrymen. Just the way the people could influence the personification of their country, the same scheme worked vice versa, and had led to a few difficult situations in the past.

Canada felt he was the odd one out in the room. He'd usually talk to France or Britain, but those two were too busy driving each other up a wall. Luckily, there was Netherlands by his side, but he wasn't exactly a blessing to be around either when nations such as Denmark were involved.

And speak of the devil, there was the other spiky-haired beer-addict. "Eeey, Ned. Have you taken your cuddle with you to cry on when you lose our bet?"

And immediately Canada was forgotten. "Nah, he was just curious what the fuss was about, and he practically _begged_ to go with me."

Canada weakly jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. "Liar."

"Sorry, Matty. No, really. I had to drag him here by the hair."

"Excuse me? Bet?" Canada interrupted. "What bet?"

The two 'porcupine-twins' as they were called kept their gazes on each other, and Netherlands explained. "We sort of made a bet about our acts. A few days ago, I said there was no way my Anouk would make it to the finals, and to avoid having to run around the city in a pink tiger-print Speedo, I had to make a new bet that she wouldn't get any higher than a fifteenth place. So yeah, I'm sort of betting that Anouk loses big time because of my reputation here."

"Why would someone even want you to run around in a pink...tiger-print…Ew? I wouldn't want to see that for my life!"

"That's why." Denmark had a sinister grin when saying that.

"Ah. And you said Anouk would make it higher than that?" Canada guessed.

"I said she'd make it tenth or higher." Denmark added, grinning with confidence. "So if she gets tenth or higher, your boyfriend is a dead man."

Netherlands rolled his eyes. "I also said there was no way Emmelie wasn't going to be first, but he begged to differ."

"What? Russia and Ukraine are really good this year and those East Blockers always give each other the 12 points!" Denmark reasoned.

"Just like you always give Norway 12 points?"

"Or like you always give your sister 12 points?"

Busted. "We all have our flaws."

Canada started to doubt his choice more and more every second. "Does anything good ever come from this?"

"How can you say that?!" Denmark squeaked.  
"Of course there are good acts coming from this!"

Canada only gave them a questioning look.

"Jedward!" The two shouted at the same time, and Canada cringed. It had been too many times he had woken up to one of the campest songs in the world – like Waterline or the even worse Lipstick – because Netherlands had those for an alarm clock on his phone. The guy was a complete Jedward-fangirl, alright. Just that Denmark was as least as bad was the icing on the cake.

A choir opened the show, giving tonight's artists a warm welcome into the stadium. All artists gave the audience a quick impression. They seemed very nice during the flag ceremony. They all entered the stage, accompanied by a flag bearer.

The host of tonight's show, a lady in a gigantic pink dress, gave a quick history of the Contest before she announced the first act of the night. Everyone cut to a silence and went to watch the first act out the window onto the stage.  
It was France's act.

"Hah, watch what a good act looks like, _Angleterre_. Not some old singer in need of attention, but a gorgeous young lady who knows her value."

"Oh, please. All she does is screaming. There is no class on that stage right now."

Canada rolled his eyes. Would those two never stop bickering? It was a good song, so bickering all throughout the performance wasn't exactly a good way to prove your point.

The first song came and went, and then followed the second and after the second followed the third. Okay, granted, they had really done their best on those acts. They gave wonderful performances, but to be quite honest, the overseas nation didn't quite understand it yet. Maybe it was just his across-the-ocean mind speaking, but he didn't think this particular programme was extraordinarily great. Someone singing about his shoes was anything to go nuts over, right? Although it was kind of catchy.

He didn't really notice it himself, but the general mood was quite relaxed and became more pleasant the more songs passed. Nations chatted about the songs in the intermissions, lighting up the mood. The songs were actually quite catchy. After seeing a few quite…special things, Canada was prepared for worse. Good thing he was, otherwise he maybe would have been a little shocked by the Finnish young lady putting up an energetic show in a wedding dress and neon pink shoes to a song that reminded him a little of Belarus having a mood again, but to a happy beat. Oh, and the fact she kissed one of the female dancers at the end.

"Does that happen more often?" He whispered to Netherlands, who was standing right next to him.

"Sometimes. It happened ten years ago. Just ask Russia about t.A.T.u, just for laughs and giggles." He grinned a bit after that, probably imagining the reaction.

Something was telling him that probably wasn't the best idea.

After the happy upbeat song, was a calmer, more acoustic one from Spain. Although, that was what he thought. More guitars and a higher tempo kicked in later, which was more his style. Nice. It really was nice. Maybe he'd drop by during the Eurovision Song Contest more often.

Just as everyone, he started chatting with a few other nations here and there in the intermissions. Surprisingly, not all countries were too much into their own song. It seemed as if a few liked each other's acts, but were very critical about their own.

When Belgium's act was on, she immediately jumped up and watched the young man with her sparkly eyes. Surprisingly, many female and male countries followed the example, as well as many teenage girls in the audience.

"What's with her?" Canada asked, nudging at Belgium.

"She has a thing for cute, just like me." Netherlands teased, poking Canada in the cheek. "And you have to admit, he is quite a cutie. I mean, look at that baby-face."

Canada jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. Softly, because he knew very well he was just teasing and didn't mean anything by it. "He's too young for you."

"So are you."

Oh, har-dy har har.

Quite enjoyable. There was something innocent about that young man. The two dancers were a bit scary, though. But his reaction when he finished the song? Adorable. That was the kind of guy you wanted to pick up and put in your pocket.

And then there was a more emotional kind of song, which was contrasted afterwards with a more glitter sort of number with more Decibels, which was then followed by another acoustic song. Variation was the key here. All sons were good, in their own way. Every act had something special. Lovely ladies with energy to spare, soft voices, men with sensitive songs and a friendly image alternated each other. Upbeat songs, electric guitars and acoustic followed each other up until the break.

During that time, Sweden, who was the host this year was, forced by Finland to have a chat with everyone. Nations gathered in small groups around the tables, took a drink, had some snacks and talked about everything.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Finland popped up at the table where Canada was standing at. It took him a second to realise that Finlands was talking to him. "Oh, yes. I've seen some very interesting things."

"Good." The short Finn seemed to shine. If his not-at-all-boyfriend couldn't be a sweet happy host, he'd just do it for him. But that didn't mean he could run away from it. "Sweden. Come here." He effortlessly dragged the taller nation to the table and forced him to join the conversation.

There were a few things Canada wanted to know, and it was said that Sweden was the number 1 Eurovision country. Perfect chance to ask a few things. "So Sweden, do those artists really make it after competing here?"

"Hm?"

"I asked Denmark and Netherlands and they just started being hyper over Jedward."

Sweden didn't look very amused about that. "They pr'bably should've mentioned ABBA."

"They started at the Eurovision?"

"Yeah, basically. Some do very well after the Competition, others don't. Nana Moskouri did very well."

"And Lordi." Finland said, happily sparkling at the mention of one of his own acts.

Sweden shivered slightly at the name of the band though. Lordi. The monsters of the 2006 Eurovision song contest. They had won with the highest number of points ever, but they sure were scary.

"What's wrong?" Finland asked.

"N'thing. Just…n't my type 'f music." He answered bitterly.

Canada spent the rest of the break with four of the Nordics, away from the bickering ex-couple and the cock-fighting friends. Although the last two seemed to forget about their bet when Germany and Prussia joined in the conversation and they all had a beer.

After the break, it was time for the Netherlands' song. Time to see if it really was that good…or bad, however you looked at it. And it was a bit plain, but it was good enough. Emotional and a bit heavy, but good. Just…the lyrics… That was a point Canada wasn't so sure about.

"Well…that was…nice…" He stuttered out when the song was over.

"For real, now, Matty."

"It was gloomy, alright. Fits the mood of never making the final." He teased.

A smack to the bottom was the answer.

The next song was completely the other way around. Nothing modest. No, the opera singer Romania had sent was giving it his all with a performance, dancers and clean but extremely high notes.  
Romania seemed to have a thing for dark, theatrical things with a high dose of vampire.

Long to enjoy the clear high notes was absent as pandemonium broke out again quickly after. Yes, it was Bonnie Tyler's turn now, and of course Britain and his eternal rival France were at each other's throats again within a matter of seconds. No one even heard the song! The two were just bickering like never before. Even when the two were still together, Canada had never heard them argue like this. Even during the next song, sung by a guy with a very familiar haircut, they kept on bickering like an old married couple.

They were.

Except they were not married…anymore.

When Denmark's song was up, everyone's mood seemed to light up. Everyone was standing at the window again. Even though the lyrics weren't the happiest, the song itself was happy and it even made France and Britain stop bickering. Wow. There wasn't anyone in the world who could do that without risking a black eye or a broken nose.

After this definitely cheerful sort of number, it was up to Iceland's act. A neatly dressed blonde man with long hair and a beard entered the stage. He didn't have anything outstanding about him like a big outfit, dancers, drums or a fire-shooting guitar. This man had a calm and kind air around him.

Not long after the music kicked in, two arms gently glided around Canada's waist and he was pulled against the body behind him. Netherlands kissed the top of his head before resting his chin on Canada's shoulder. They gently rocked left to right on the calm music and Eyþór Ingi's soft voice. Well, this was a very welcome change of mood.

This was a very welcome break from the constant chatting that was going on. Everyone was quiet now and this song was so perfectly dreamy. So sweet after all the killing Decibels. Now was just a moment for sweetness,, cuddles and kisses.

Sadly, the show only allowed this trance to take three minutes, as the show moved on.

More special was to come: A man in a glass box. Literally. Very cool. Hyper but fun Greeks, who had made it to Sweden despite being ultimately broke, a giant from Ukraine holding a petite woman with a huge voice, something typically Italian which wasn't by any means bad, and a blonde woman in a very very tight white dress. This seemed to please not only Denmark's ears, but also his eyes. "Hmm, Norway. Your act this year is yummy!"

The shorter Scandinavian only shot him a sarcastic glance over his shoulder.

"Who are you trying to fool? Everyone in this room knows you're as straight as a rainbow."

"That was mean."

"That was reality."

The next song was another theatrical sort of number and the program was closed off with a very energetic song from Ireland. Thank goodness no Jedward this year, Canada thought to himself.

During the scoring, the nations didn't really pay attention. Everyone could tell from experience who would get the points from who. Instead of worrying over it like the audience down below, they took the time to have a drink and discuss the acts they liked most.

It was as Denmark had said: Russia indeed liked the Ukrainian act most, and the Baltics also had a soft spot for either the Russian or the Ukrainian song.

The only ones who were slightly worried over the outcome where the two idiots who had made bets on it: Denmark and Netherlands. They didn't quite get into the conversation and kept checking the scores.

When after a long time the host of the show announced the winner, everyone was stuck to the window again. Even before the end of giving the scores it was obvious that Emmelie De Forest had won by far, so Denmark nearly jumped through the roof. Knowing him, he'd start rubbing it into basically everyone's face any second now. And he did.

After the initial euphoria over winning the contest was over, Denmark turned to Netherlands. "Hey, Anouk was with the first ten." He grinned. "You know what that means, right?"

"Yeah, I know what that means." Netherlands responded, admitting that he had lost his part of the bet. "But Emmelie won, and you know what that means too, right?" Also he got a grin, reminding that he wasn't the only one to have lost his part of the bet.

"Shall we call it a tie then?" Denmark tried, smiling uncomfortably.

"Oh, no, mister. You said that if I was wrong, you'd do your part, no matter what!"

Denmark started to curse inwardly as more and more countries started to encourage him to do it. The worst thing was that they didn't know what he had to do, and they probably weren't going to like it. But he had to give in. Peer pressure. "Okay, okay."

The others had no idea what would happen. Some had no idea of the bet in the first place. Netherlands wouldn't say it either. He just grinned and told them they'd see any second now.

Denmark carefully went downstairs, outside into the cold of the night, while the other nations fought for the best spot at the window. Once he made his way down the stairs, and was in full sight of his fellow nations, he first stuck up his middle finger to a sadistically smirking Netherlands.

After taking a deep breath, he quickly slipped out of his clothes. All of them. Even his socks, and started running like hell around the building. Yes, that was the price he had to pay for losing the bet: Streaking around the building where the Eurovision Song Contest was being held. And hell, was that scary!

While the majority of nations was nearly dying from laughing so hard, others tried to keep the snacks they had consumed during the last hours inside their stomachs. While acts at the Contest could sometimes be vomit-inducing, seeing Denmark running around butt ass naked was about the absolute winner on that point.

The spiky-haired nation ran harder than he ever even had in his Viking days, successfully ignoring everyone probably staring at him from both the street and the nation-room. The fact he was in Sweden didn't quite help his situation either. The last thing the people there would need was a headline in the papers about an insane, possibly drunk Dane streaking at the Eurovision Song Contest. Mainly because Sweden was rather fond of the Contest. The nation himself probably wouldn't be too happy either.

Said insane, possibly drunk Dane successfully but barely outran the two police officers that shouted at him to stop running.  
The finish was in sight!  
He was almost there!  
Finally!  
There it was!  
There was the door and…where had his clothes gone?

That sick fuck pothead. Furious, he ran upstairs, where he – thank god – found his red boxers halfway the stairs. He was so kind to put them on before bursting into the room again.

The clothes-thief was grinning at first, but nearly died laughing when spotting Denmark's face, reddened with anger. He teasingly waved the garments in front of him.

"Ned! You sick fucking pothead faggot! Give me back my clothes, you miserable pile of shit! You know what's about to freeze off here?! Are you-umpf!" His trousers, shirt and tie were thrown into his face as one big ball. Luckily, Netherlands had been so clever not to throw his shoes and socks as well.

After clawing the mess of clothes out of his face he quickly slipped his trousers back on and hung his red shirt back on his shoulders but didn't bother buttoning it back up or putting on his tie. Every single second of Netherlands' and everyone else's loud laughing was maddening. That guy was so dead.

"Now you're getting it!" He barked, stomped towards Netherlands, hooked his arm around the nation's neck and roughly yanked him down into a kiss. Full on the mouth. He forcefully shoved his tongue into the other man's mouth and forced him into submission with just that.

Yes, that was the deal if Netherlands lost his part of the bet: He'd have to let Denmark snog him in front of all the other nations who happened to be at the Contest. And hell, he wasn't going to let him enjoy it. Not a second.

Canada didn't even know what to think anymore. 'Huh?!' seemed close to appropriate, but his brain somehow wouldn't really work the way it should. It was too weird. The other countries nearly died laughing, cheered and wooo'd, shook their heads or – in Hungary's case – took as many pictures as possible.

Netherlands was panting when he was finally released from Denmark's neck-lock, but he hadn't lost his sharp comments. "Dude, you taste like cheap beer."  
"You taste like weed."  
"How would you know?"  
"You got me stoned often enough for me to know what weed tastes like."  
"That's your own big fat stupid fault for being hilarious as fuck when you're stoned."  
"I'm feeling so sorry for Canada now in so many ways."  
"And I for Norway. Seriously, I don't know what that was, but I call it rape."  
"Shut up. I'm feeling sorry for Canada if you always taste like cigarettes, gross beer and pot."

Canada was a little confused. It was funny, but confusing. Should he be offended for being involved in the mess? He looked at Norway, who seemed completely calm and didn't seem to mind or even care about the verbal fight. "Eh, shouldn't we do something?"

"Nah. Let them have their cockfight. If Den's hasn't frozen off for real." Norway shrugged and left to grab himself another beer.

After some more hanging round with other nations and having a good time for himself, Canada decided it was time to go back to the hotel. A few other countries had already left, and he didn't quite feel like staying up all night.

Denmark and Netherlands' bickering didn't seem to be over yet, though. The two were still as much attacking each other's masculinity as before. It was somehow quite amusing, though. Germany was, just as Canada now, watching from the side enjoying the show with a beer.

"Germany, how do you guys keep these kind of things out of world meetings?"

"It's quite easy. Tomorrow both of them will be too embarrassed to leave their room and they won't talk about it anymore until next year. Shouldn't you be doing something about your boyfriend?" He said in quite a relaxed tone. He didn't seem to mind at all.

"Maybe, but it's funny. Shouldn't you be doing something about your friends?"

"Nah. This happens all the time. It's usually Austria or Sweden who break them up when we're out drinking together. If no one does, they'll go on all night."

"Oh. Shall we see how long they can keep up without fainting? That would be funny."

"Yeah, I've seen that happening a few times. But the guys here want to close for the night."

"Okay, okay." Canada had to admit it really was time to leave now. The party was over, so he tried to get Netherlands' attention. As usual, he was ignored, so it was time for plan B: He grabbed his darling boyfriend by the ear and dragged him away. Only seconds later, a certain very much protesting Dane got the same treatment from his own boyfriend.

"Owowowow. Matty! I get it. Ouch!" Netherlands begged as he was dragged out the door and across the street. "Can I please go back now?"

"No, you can't. You've had your fun for tonight in there. Now it's my turn to have some fun with you."

"Butbutbut…! Wait. You want what?" He got a little scared now. Really scared.

In the meantime, they had reached their hotel room and Canada practically threw his boyfriend inside.

"Matty?" Netherlands crawled back a little on the bed he was just flung onto. "What's with the evil glare?"

Canada grinned slightly, loosening his tie, and unexpectedly pinned Netherlands down into the mattress. "You've misbehaved terribly, plus I still want my revenge for you letting another man snog you."  
Before the other had the chance to utter words of protest, his mouth was occupied by something completely else than talking. Canada's tongue, to be exact.

And that was the start of a long night. After this, Netherlands was sure to make a mental note to invite Canada over more often. If he'd get a wonderful treatment like this every time, he'd make sure to lose a bet like that again. A result like this was well worth being snogged by Denmark. Definitely worth it.

Up to next year.

~o~o~o~

I don't know what to say here. Please don't kill me? Please don't?

Just for the record, I LOVE Jedward. They are JEPIC! And Lordi is awesome as well, admit it. Of course I couldn't leave Sweden and ABBA out here. I like them too.


End file.
